You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
My response:
"I didn't expect my name to go across theese parts of a fainted world" you say. The smell of rotted wood mixed with frogs boiling for hours outside the tent starts to hit you. You look behind the owner of the voice who speaks you and sees the sword of Emiyal Klamfyr. "I see I'm not the first of my kind to stumble by here" you smirk. "Do not tell me that you expected his sudden dissapereance wouldn't cause problems?".
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